The Time I Was Reckless

M and I have to buy life insurance, which means I’ve been thinking about all the terrible things that could happen to us. What if I die? What if he dies? What if we both die, together? One of the leading causes of bankruptcy is medical problems, even in Canada. It’s not that the medical bills themselves are high (unlike the States), it’s the income loss when you’re too sick to work.

Morbid, right?

Surprisingly, thinking about terrible things makes me want to be less responsible. After learning a great deal about something called “Critical Illness Insurance”, I wanted (very badly) to go to the beach.

All I could think about was the beach. Sun, warm skin, cool drinks. I wanted a margarita and a good book. And not a good book that would edify or improve me in any way – a romance or thriller that would actually leave me stupider. (Harder to find than you’d think.)

So I said: “Screw life insurance! Screw mortgages! Baby, have you ever been to Thailand? I hear we can live like kings for the price we pay for a bus pass here.”

Being responsible is for people who are going to live long, full lives. I want that, of course – we have so much to do! – but last night, after my research and shattered beach dreams, I didn’t want to be even a little bit responsible.

So I had red wine and chocolate for dinner, then watched the Kardashians and the first half of Coming to America*. I laugh every time the super shows the apartment. Every time.

And then we fell asleep at 10pm. I guess that’s what constitutes a wild night these days.

*I love this movie, way more than M does. I’ve loved it for years. It’s yet another thing Beyonce and I have in common.